Abba's Child

I started a new therapy with my counselor called Life Integration Therapy. Being a Christian, she does things a little differently and invites the Holy Spirit into the session to help build these broken pieces in your brain from many years of trauma.

It kinda kicks your butt.

I did ok until the adult me had to tell the infant me, just birthed and wrapped in a receiving blanket, what her life was going to be like. I totally lost it. I don’t want to tell this innocent, precious baby that her life would be filled with molestation, an alcoholic father with rages, suicide, lying, deceit, shame, divorce and many years of pain and regret.

How do you tell a child this is what their life will be like? How can you do that to any one let alone an innocent child?

It’s not fair.

I have several girlfriends, the dearest ladies in the world to me, who have had blessed lives. A good, solid upbringing with healthy fathers, good husbands filled with integrity, safe homes, ministry without shame, marriage without betrayal, the works in my book. Then I look at my life and I feel like a little girl watching her Daddy hand beautiful gifts to her sisters - new, pristine party dresses, china dolls with silk curls, warm, soft coats with fur around the collar. And I get a beat up, second-hand doll.

Don’t get me wrong. I am grateful for two AMAZING children and a lovely home and a job I love; but there is still a little girl in me with dreams and hopes, that is looking at a second-hand doll. I don’t want to tell the baby me that this is what her life will feel like.

I know God can and does make beautiful china dolls out of gauze and yarn; however the child in me is having a good old-fashioned pity party. I’ve heard the catch phrases of the decade saying we need to “heal the child within” and now I get it. Except this child is sulking in the corner with a torn up doll at her feet watching her sisters twirl in their party dresses to the delight of all who watch.

I know. I need an attitude adjustment. But this is where the child me is today. I refuse to stay here. It is too exhausting! Sulking takes work! The brow must stay furrowed (causes caverns in middle-aged skin), the lips must maintain a constant pout (although they do look like they’ve had some silicone in them this way), and the arms have to remain crossed (well that isn’t so bad, it gives you cleavage).

It’s still tiring. Maybe I need a nap.